


Still Breathing

by logans_girl2001



Series: A Thousand Kisses Deep [3]
Category: Three Rivers
Genre: M/M, Mentions of inappropriate behavior with a teenager by an adult, Past Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 10:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18519877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logans_girl2001/pseuds/logans_girl2001
Summary: After nearly six years of being in love, Ryan begins to doubt that Andy truly loves him. So he walks away, leaving behind everything Andy ever gave him and a letter that does not even come close to explaining why.





	Still Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for round eight of Small Fandom Big Bang.
> 
> Art by [geeru](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18511447)

After Andy thrusts one more time, and I feel him come inside me, he lies there for a long moment; just until he's almost soft enough to slip out. He likes how his half hard cock catches on the rim of my asshole when he pulls out.

I, however, do not. But since I'm the submissive, and my preferences are not what's important, he does it. Almost every time.

Really the only time he doesn't is when he makes love to me as if we're equals. Which, honestly, is not often enough for me anymore.

I bite back the hiss at the sting of his semen sliding across my abused skin. He's hardly ever gentle first thing in the morning. Despite him fucking me multiple times during the night, it hurts when he rolls on top of me, or lifts me astride him, because he's still mostly asleep and so doesn't use lube; counting on his come from the previous fuckings to ease his way.

It never does.

The mattress dips when he shifts so that he can lick from my balls up to my asshole, using his tongue to push his come back inside me.

I bite the pillow I'm clutching to keep the moan from escaping. If he knows it hurts, he'll turn all concerned and then I'll be at risk of changing my mind. Again. I can't let my feelings for him stop me this time. I can no longer live with him even though he is the only man I have ever, or will ever, love.

He says he loves me, he's whispering it to my ass right now. But his refusal to do one simple thing, the reminder of which is pressed to my hip, has made it impossible for me to believe him.

"If I hadn't agreed to let you sleep in on your days off, I'd carry you into the shower so you can suck my dick while I bathe," he mumbles into the skin of my left butt cheek before nipping it.

Then, with a stinging slap to my right cheek, he gets up from the bed, stretching with a loud groan. "God, but you're a great fuck."

He runs one hand down my back, squeezing and rubbing my ass, before heading into the bathroom. He obviously hasn't noticed that I barely participate when he fucks me these days. And that thought brings tears to my eyes. Just six months ago, he had to order me to lie still while he fucked me. 

Stretching out one arm, I grab the wet wipes out of the bedside drawer and clean myself off before rolling over out of the wet spot he always leaves me with.

I'm very nearly asleep again when he brushes a tender kiss to my temple. Th-thump goes my heart and the part of me that is still his submissive asks if I really, truly want to do this. And then I feel the reminder of why I must do this now as he trails his hand down my arm.

I manage to get a couple more hours of sleep. When I wake, I feel even more sure of what I have planned for today.

Rising from the bed, my hand goes straight for the gold chain I've worn for nearly six years. It'll have to be removed eventually, but for now it can stay. Fingering the links, I make my way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

The guilt at using the toilet and shower without Andy's permission weighs heavily until I remind myself that I've been calling him 'Andy' instead of 'Master' in my head for months now. If that wasn't evidence that I'm ready for this, then I don't know what is.

I have not taken a shower alone since Andy collared me six years ago and it is very strange to not have his body crowding mine, his hands rubbing the body wash into my skin, stroking between my ass cheeks, and sliding up my cock. I begin to get hard just thinking of the feel of his hands on me.

For over six years I have not been allowed to jerk off without permission and an audience, so I go ahead and see if I can get myself off. I can't but it feels nice just the same.

Stepping from the shower stall, I stand in front of the mirror, my fingers once again caressing the gold chain around my neck. I know I have to remove it; that I can't take it with me. My fingers wrap around it and I start to tug with the intention of ripping it from my neck. My point would be so much more impressive if I left him a broken chain, but I know I'd just end up hurting myself instead of actually breaking the thin links since it is a dog's choke chain designed to fit around a human neck.

Deciding to save that particular show of rebellion until last, I start to get dressed. When my phone beeps, alerting me to a text message, I ignore it because I know it's Andy.

A couple of days after he put his collar on me, he took our relationship from only when we're alone to all the time even when we're not together. I am required to get his permission to do everything, even use the toilet.

The text is more than likely him letting me know I can get up and begin my day. On my days off the text usually includes blanket permission for everything I'll need to do during the day. But not always. If I'm being punished I'm not allowed out of bed and I must get verbal, not a text, permission to do anything. And asking Sophia - Dr. Jordan - does not count. Even if I'm about to soil the bed and he's in surgery. Luckily that has never happened.

Once dressed, I head to the kitchen. Andy will have made me my favorite breakfast foods. This is one time today that I will not be rebelling. I pull the plate of eggs, bacon, and toast from the warming oven and sit at the table to eat. Andy insists I stand at the counter when he's not home. But I don't like standing to eat and since today is all about breaking free of his dominance, sitting at the table it is.

After I eat, I do my chores. I maybe rebelling and about to walk out the door, but that doesn't mean I can't still take pride in keeping a tidy house. Besides, I decorated it and I hate to see it cluttered and dirty.

That done, I eat some lunch, cleaning up after myself, then sit down at the table again to write my good-bye letter. Several times, in fact, since I can't find the words to tell him why I'm leaving, without actually telling him why I'm leaving. Telling him the exact reason feels like cheating. If he can't figure out what he did to push me away, then does he truly deserve me? Or even love me? He should know how I feel about this by now because I was not silent about it when it first became an issue five years ago. I haven't mentioned it since but only because he ordered me to never speak to him about it again.

Finally, I write a letter I can live with, because in no way is it satisfactory nor does it truly express what I want to say but it's getting late and I still have things to do.

I fold the paper into an envelope with his name on it and prop it up against the bowl of oranges on the island countertop, then go pack.

In the bedroom, I throw open the double doors to the large walk-in closet that we share. More than half of it is full of his clothes, the man is a fucking clothes horse. I walk the room, fingering the fine cloth of his clothes, lifting sleeves to my nose or to rub against my cheek, stopping to caress the fine leather of his shoes and belts. And then I get to my clothes.

More than half of my wardrobe are items purchased by him as gifts for me. They will not be coming with me. I had decided that I would only take things I bought with my own money, as in with my paycheck. Andy had given me an allowance but I mostly used it on things for us or him or sometimes for the house. I do have a house account but if I wanted to surprise him with something, it couldn't come out of that account.

Pulling out my suitcase, I refused to let him buy me a new one, I begin folding my clothes into it and my duffle bag. Just as I place the last shirt in my suitcase, my phone beeps several times in a row, telling me I have multiple messages.

Picking the phone up so I can see the notifications on the lock screen, I see they're all from Andy, demanding to know why I haven't responded and why I haven't texted about anything. I choose to ignore them all, placing the phone in my pocket to carry into the main room.

Back in the kitchen, I place my key ring on the countertop next to the letter, every single key on it belongs to something I received from him. I then place my phone next to my keys. Finally, I reach up and finger the gold chain links that are sitting heavily on my collarbone.

As I contemplate removing it for the first time ever, the memory of the night he put it on me surfaces.

His hands had been shaking as he opened the box and showed me the collar he'd selected. He'd actually rambled about how long it had taken him to find and why it was so late in arriving (the chain had been out of stock). He had then sat on the end of the coffee table and said his vows before placing the chain around my neck. I had said vows of my own and then he'd handed me the key to the lock and I had placed it on a chain around his neck. Then he'd fucked me on the couch and when he checked for tears, he hadn't used any more lube than what I had used when opening myself for him, he had actually managed to make me come a second time with just his tongue!

Even though the collar has a key that he he uses to lock it tight around my neck, he doesn't let me sleep with it tight. If he did, I'd have to use bolt cutters to get it off. And with that thought, I wonder if he even owns a pair of bolt cutters because I could use them and it would be just as good as if I could rip it from my neck. But then I discard the idea. The chain was most likely expensive and even though I no longer have to fear his punishments, I just can't bring myself to destroy something that cost a lot of money.

Placing the chain on the countertop, I look at the clock on the microwave, cursing under my breath at how late it is. Picking up my bags, I rush from the house, stopping at the front door to take one last look around the condo I spent the last five years pleasing my Master in.

My heart starts racing when I hear a car pull up to the curb but a quick look over my shoulder has me breathing a sigh of relief when I see it's just Pam, one of the nurses from the hospital. She has agreed to take me to the airport since I don't own the car I drive and I am not taking anything he bought or gave me.

Throwing my bags in the back seat, I slide into the front passenger seat. "Thanks again for doing this, Pam," I say, buckling my seat belt.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Ryan?" When she looks at me, I can see the doubt in her eyes. "Andy's a good man. I know he loves you."

I sigh and look over my shoulder, checking to make sure he's not arriving home yet. Pam sees and tells me, "He caught an emergency surgery. He won't be home until late."

I frown at her and motion for her to start the car. "And you're not in the OR with him, because…?"

She just flips her hair and smirks. "I begged off by saying I had cramps."

A small huff of a laugh escapes. "Of course you did."

"The man is physically incapable of dealing with anything menstrual cycle related. It's actually kinda funny when you think about it."

Turning to face the window so she doesn't see my eye roll, I answer her previous question. "Yes, I'm sure. He still hasn't taken care of it so I don't think he loves me like he says he does."

"Have you ever said anything about it?"

"Yes! Right after the divorce was final. And then at least once a week for over a year. Until he ordered me to stop, in fact. So, yes, I'm positive he knows it bothers me."

"What are you doing?" Pam's question has me realizing I'm fingering my newly naked neck. "Oh, Ryan, what have you done?"

I pull the collar of my shirt down a little, just enough for her to see the absence of the chain. Her sharply indrawn breath tells me she recognizes the gravity of the situation.

"I couldn't leave with it on. You know this."

When she releases her breath, it's shaky. "So this is like an abused woman leaving her abusive husband."

"In a way, yes. Except he never abused me. Everything he did to me was consensual. Even the punishments."

"Okay."

We fall into silence for the rest of the trip to the airport. I know she just wants me to be happy even though she truly doesn't understand why I don't just tell him, again, that I'm no longer happy.

At the airport drop off, she gets out of the car so she can hug me. "We're going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you, too." I can feel tears pricking my eyelids. "This is for the best, you know."

"No, I don't. But if you think this is something you have to do, then I'll support you as best as I can." She steps back and wipes a tear from her cheek. "You'll call once you get settled?"

I shake my head. "No. Clean break, Pam. It's the only way."

She takes and releases a deep breath. "But won't he be able to track your phone?"

"I left it. Along with everything he ever gave me. He can't accuse me of stealing when the only things I'm taking are things I purchased for myself."

She nods, her eyes sad. "I hope you two can work this out."

Ducking my head, I sigh. "I'm not sure I want that." Raising my head, I stare into her eyes, fighting back tears. "I mean, if he can ignore something that betrays everything he's ever said to me, then how can I trust him? In our type of relationship, trust is crucial. And once that trust is broken, it's difficult to get it back."

"Okay. Just promise me something?" I tilt my head, waiting for her to continue. "When he shows up at your door, because you know he'll find you, just keep an open mind and listen with your whole heart to what he says. You fell for him for a reason. Let him remind you of that reason."

"I promise I'll listen. I cannot, and will not, promise to let him back into my life."

"I understand that." Standing on her tiptoes, she brushes a kiss to my cheek. "You'd better go or you'll miss your plane."

With one last hug, I turn and enter the terminal.

It's early evening on a Wednesday so there aren't that many people waiting to check-in. But there are enough that the people around me are getting tired of standing in line. When it's my turn at the counter, things go smoothly, not that I thought they wouldn't. I check my suitcase and head to security.

The line for security takes longer due to a passenger who speaks very little English not understanding the instructions of the TSA agents. Eventually they ask the people waiting if anyone speaks the obscure language of the tiny woman who has now begun sobbing in fright and frustration.

A man steps up and says he speaks a language that is similar and he's willing to try. When he approaches the woman and begins speaking her face lights up and she shoots something in rapid fire speech at him. He laughs and holds up one hand, replying slowly in the language he speaks and I figure he's telling her he's rather rusty with the language he speaks so she needs to speak slowly.

Another twenty minutes later and the woman is happily through security and the line is applauding the stranger for his assistance. As a reward, the whole line lets him go ahead of them.

When I get through security, I find the arrivals/departures board and find that my gate has changed and is now on the opposite end of the terminal from where I currently am. And I only have forty-five minutes to get there.

Cursing under my breath, I take off at a jog, hoping I make it on time. I had tried to get here with time to spare but the hold up at security ate too much of it. But I'm lucky enough to make it to my gate with a few minutes to spare. In fact, I've just sat down when they announce that boarding is beginning.

Unlike most flights, this one doesn't have reserved seats and is completely full which leaves one seat at the very front of the plane open.

The flight attendant winces when he points at it. "Sorry, sir, but this is the last available seat."

I shrug. "It's fine." I don't like not having seats in front of me but it's not a very long flight so it'll be fine.

His sigh is nearly inaudible but the relief that washes over his face tells me he expected a temper tantrum. As I stow my bag, he whispers. "Once we're in the air I'll bring you the non-alcoholic beverage of your choice free of charge."

I smile and thank him, taking my seat and buckling my belt.

I don't particularly like flying but I also don't like driving for hours without someone to keep me company and help with driving. I know it's only seven hours but that's still a long time to be in a car. Plus, flying is the quickest way to get back to my home town of Naperville, Illinois.

Luckily we begin taxing away from the gate before my nerves can really start. The safety speech is so well known by everyone, that it's all mostly background noise at this point. I find my mind wandering as the flight attendants drone on about where the exits are and how to use the oxygen masks.

Thoughts of Andy and what he's doing now keep creeping into my mind; thoughts I keep pushing away because what he does is no longer my concern. But I'm finding it difficult to convince the part of me that is still his submissive. That part insists that if I had just told him, _again_ , then he would have corrected his oversight. But I know that's not true because if it was, he would have done something about it sooner.

I'm starting to learn that it is exceedingly difficult to stop loving a man who showed you things about yourself that you never knew. For six years, I have loved Andrew Yablonski, have knelt at his feet, have let him use my body for his sexual pleasure and walking away from all that is not easy. My heart is breaking into a million pieces as I picture Andy on his knees, tears streaming down his face while he waited for me to condemn him for taking the necessary steps to make sure Sir - I mean, _Mick_ \- was no longer a threat to me.

To say I was shocked at his confession that night would be an understatement. I had people keeping me informed as to his whereabouts (had to protect myself) so I knew he was dead; knew it wasn't the accident the police say it was. But to hear Andy say those words shook me to my very core.

Over the months of our relationship I had heard rumors about his uncle being 'connected' but I figured that Andy had turned his back on all that. Turns out he hadn't really. Guess it doesn't hurt to not burn all your bridges.

All I could do after he bared his soul to me was to say 'thank you' and crawl over to his side. He fucked me right there on the floor under the window overlooking the Allegheny River. The fire in his eyes burned as he stared into mine.

After that night, there was no question that I owned him every bit as much as he owned me. And I could ruin him with the words he spoke that night, A whisper in the right ear and he'd lose everything. The amount of trust he showed that night still stuns me whenever I think about it.

"Sir?" My thoughts are interrupted by the flight attendant handing me my drink.

"Thank you." I smile at him, taking the cup of ice and warm can from his hands.

Pouring some of the soda into the cup, I take a sip and sit back to look out the window at the ground thousands of feet below. From this distance it's difficult to make out people and cars but I still wonder about the people who live in the towns and cities we're flying over. Are they happy? In love? Getting married or divorced? Just starting a new relationship? Or ending one they thought would last? Or trying to find a way to end one that's not working or is abusive?

That last thought brings Mick to mind for the first time in years; since I told Andy about him, in fact. It was as if the physical act of telling someone about what he did to me exorcised him from my memory.

Finding out that Andy had had him killed made me finally breathe out in relief. Even though I knew he was dead, I had still been metaphorically holding my breath since the day I left Illinois. It was as if I didn't truly believe he was dead until Andy said those words; until he told me that Mick didn't deserve to breathe the same air as me. Hearing those words made me feel like I was the most special thing in the world. 

But then I realized that for months he didn't let me know that Mick was definitely dead and I had no reason to fear him any longer. I felt like he got off on knowing that I was terrified that one day I'd turn a corner and come face to face with my abuser. Except he should have been pissed that I couldn't trust him to protect me.

And another black mark gets added to the growing list of reasons for me to leave. I know that as the submissive, Andy didn't have to tell me shit but surely it bothered him that I couldn't completely relax and trust that he could keep me safe.

I try to not think about Andy but he's been such a huge part of my life for the past six years that it's difficult not to. For six years my every waking thought revolved around him, even when I was doing my job. Mistress trained me to always anticipate my Dominant's every need. It served me well with Andy but not with Mick.

Mick was so unpredictable that I was forever being punished for not knowing what he wanted before he did.

Pushing thoughts of those four years away, I close my eyes and let myself drift off into a light doze.

I jolt awake when the pilot announces that the flight attendants should prepare for landing. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I hand my trash to the passing flight attendant. She smiles at me with a nod of her head.

Being in the first row, I'm the first off the plane. Shouldering the strap of my duffle, I make my way to baggage claim and then make my way through security to the pick up area.

Once outside, I find my mom easily enough. With a small cry of joy, she rushes toward me, engulfing me in her embrace. It's been six years since I last saw her, Andy has trouble taking more than a couple of days off and he refused to let me travel home alone.

"Oh, Ryan." Mom is crying against my shoulder. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Well, I'm here now." I return her hug, burying my face in her neck.

"This boyfriend of yours reminds me of the last one."

"No, Mom, Andy's different."

"Really? He wouldn't let you come visit. And now you're leaving him."

Pulling back, I give her a smile. Or at least I try to. "I'm not leaving Andy because he beat me, because he never did. I'm leaving Andy for a totally different reason."

"And that is?" Turning she links her arm with mine.

"I don't think he's over his ex and so I feel like he doesn't truly love me. Why should I stay if I'm his second choice?"

She pats my arm. "I'm glad you love yourself enough to leave a relationship where you're not your partner's main focus."

"Exactly. Andy gave me that confidence."

The rest of the walk to the parking area is done in silence. "So," she begins once we reach her car. "What're you gonna do when he comes for you?"

"You mean _if_ he comes for me?" She shrugs. "Tell him, again, why I left. If he can't, or won't, fix the problem, I'll stay here. I have enough saved to not have to work for a while."

The look she gives me says that she's surprised at this. I sigh and lean my head back. "After S-Mick-" Just saying his name makes a weight lift off my chest. "- I decided I needed a safety net. Just in case. I truly never thought I'd ever leave Andy." For the first time, my voice breaks on his name.

"Oh, Ryan." Mom reaches over and squeezes my arm. "I am so sorry."

I roll my head to the left and give her a wan smile. "So am I."

The rest of the drive to the house is done in almost complete silence. My mother is just incapable of not talking so she tells me about things that I really do not care about; mostly gossip about people I have never met.

The house is mostly dark when we arrive. Mom pulls into the garage and we enter through the kitchen. The smells from the last meal she cooked still linger and my stomach protests it's empty state. Mom heads to the fridge and begins pulling out leftovers. 

"Mom." I stop her with a hand on her arm. When she looks up at me, I explain, "Nothing too heavy, please. A simple sandwich will do."

She nods and puts everything she just pulled out back before turning to the pantry to pull out the bread, peanut butter, and honey. She looks up at me as she begins putting the sandwich together. "Go through to the den. Your father is waiting. I'll bring this out." She makes shooing motions with her hands when I don't move right away.

With a weary sigh, I turn to exit the kitchen but call over my shoulder as I go, "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you know."

"I know you are," she calls after me. "Now, go."

I sigh again but do as I'm told. I can tell that I will not be able to stay with them for long, certainly not as long as she will want me to.

In the den I find my father watching the late news. Or rather, he's sitting in his recliner with the late news playing quietly on the TV while he lightly dozes.

"Hey, Dad," I say softly, touching his arm.

He jerks awake with a snort. "Huh?" He squints up at me, sleep still heavy in his eyes. "Oh, it's you, Ryan." He pulls me into an awkward hug with one arm. "How was your flight?" he asks around a yawn.

"Uneventful." I sit down on the end of the couch closest to his chair.

"Good, good." He slurs the last word and I can tell he's drifting off again.

"Why don't you go to bed?" He's always been like this.

"Waiting for your mother. Is she back?"

I frown at him. When Mom enters the room, I turn my frown on her. "Is Dad okay?"

Mom's eyebrows climb her forehead. "Yes. Why?"

"He just asked me if you're back, yet."

"Oh." She chuckles lightly. "You know how he is when he's on the edge of sleep."

She hands me the sandwiches she made me and gently shakes Dad awake. "C'mon, Carl. Let's go to bed, now."

"Hm?" he hums, not opening his eyes. "Agnes?"

"Yes, Carl."

"Is Ryan here?"

Mom laughs and leans down to brush a kiss to his cheek. "Yes, dear. I just picked him up at the airport."

"How's he look? Has that bastard of a boyfriend of his hit him again?"

I meet my mother's surprised gaze. I never told them about the one time Andy slapped me during a fight so he must be talking about Mick.

"No, dear. He broke up with that one nearly seven years ago." 

"Good."

"C'mon." Mom tugs on Dad's arm and he gets unsteadily to his feet, his eyes still mostly closed.

"Good night, sweetheart." Mom leans over and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

"Night, Mom. Night, Dad."

"Night, son." Dad lets Mom lead him from the room.

With a shake of my head, I turn off the TV and the light and head down to the basement apartment that has been my bedroom since I was sixteen.

The next day, I take Mom's car to run some errands. I need more clothes, mostly more appropriate underwear because Andy preferred me in barely there briefs, and I definitely need a new cell. I also decide to pick up some applications in a couple of the shops around town. I may have enough saved to not have to work for about a year, but that doesn't mean I want to sit around all day every day.

When I get back to the house, I truly expected there to be an unknown car sitting in the drive or at the curb but there's not. 

"Hey," I greet Mom when I join her in the kitchen where she's mixing some kind of dough.

"Hey, baby." She tilts her head in demand of a kiss on the cheek.

I do as requested then ask, "Did anyone call for me?"

She frowns at me and goes back to kneading the dough sitting on the counter in front of her. "No. Why would they?"

"Well, I'm sure Andy knows I came here. And I put in some applications around town."

"I thought you said you have enough saved?"

"I do. But that doesn't mean I don't want to work. "

"Okay." 

When she doesn't say anything else, I know she's trying to find a polite way of saying whatever it is she feels she needs to say. Then with a heavy sigh she asks, "How do you know he knows you came here?"

I sigh. "Because he knows that I have nowhere else to go. And since Mick is dead, I would come back here."

She nods. "Are you expecting him at any particular time?"

"Well, I figured he'd have been here already. I mean, I've been gone for almost a full day and it's only a seven hour drive from Pittsburgh."

She looks up at me through her lashes, hands stilling in the dough. "Maybe he thinks you'll return on your own if he gives you some space. Or maybe he's decided to let you go and won't be coming after you."

I'm still not one hundred percent sure which reaction I want, but for some reason hearing Mom say that maybe he decided to let me go hurts. A lot.

With a sigh, I flop down into one of the kitchen chairs. "Yeah, maybe. But what if I want him to fight for me? What if I _need_ him to show me just how much he cares by coming here and demanding I return?"

"Is that what you want? What you need from him?" Damn my mother for being so perceptive. 

"I don't know, Mom." Crossing my arms on the table, I rest my forehead on them and try to stop the tears that are pricking the backs of my eyelids. "All I know is I love him. I thought that he was the one I'd grow old with. I thought he felt the same. But I've put up with this issue for _five years_ now and I can't any longer." I raise my head and stare at her though a haze of tears. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"Oh, no, baby!" She plops the dough in a bowl and covers it with cling wrap before putting it in the proofing drawer next to the oven and then washing her hands before coming over and sitting in the chair next to me. "If he couldn't tell that whatever it is he did or didn't do has been bothering you for all this time, that makes _him_ the bad person." She pets my hair and lets me sniffle into her neck. "You've told him it bothers you, yes?" 

I nod and choke back a sob. "He had to order me to stop mentioning it."

"Wait, he had to _order_ you to stop?"

 _Fuck_! How could I have been so stupid as to have said that. I pull back, sit up straight in my chair and, while keeping my gaze locked on the wall opposite, begin telling her things she probably doesn't want to know about me.

"Andy and I have a different relationship from the one I've let you think we have." I flick my eyes over to her but her expression is only curious so I continue. "When I was in high school, I discovered I enjoy doing things for others. And I'm not talking about just being a helping hand.

"Ms. Blackstone would have me mow her lawn, clean her house, and other things like that. She would reward me with food and praise."

"Wait." Mom pauses to take a deep breath. "Ms. Blackstone, your journalism teacher?"

"Yes. One night after school, I stayed to help her get the paper finished on time. When we were done, she put me on my knees and told me I was a good boy."

"Was this a sexual thing?" I can hear the anger and fear beginning to tinge her tone. She thinks I'm confessing to being molested by my teacher which scares her because she's my mother and it makes her feel like she failed to protect me.

"No. She never touched me in a sexual way. She did teach me how to properly kiss but that's as far as it went." No need for her to know that I also learned how to sexually please a woman with my mouth and fingers.

"So food wasn't the only thing she rewarded you with." She makes it a statement but I give her an answer anyway.

"Yes. She would sit me on the couch and kiss me." And let me eat her until my jaw ached.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I liked it. She never pressured me to do it. In fact, she was constantly telling me that all I had to do was tell her I didn't want to do it anymore and we'd stop."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"So you'll understand when I tell you about Andy."

"Understand what, Ryan?"

"I'm a submissive. I get immense pleasure from doing what others tell me to do."

"Sexual pleasure." Again a statement, not a question. And again I answer it.

"Not always. I never once got aroused with Ms. Blackstone, whom I called 'Mistress'."

"Is that when you realized you're gay?"

I shake my head. "I had never been aroused by another person before Mick." She tilts her head and frowns at me. "That's not to say I had never experienced sexual arousal, just never in relation to someone else." I can see she doesn't understand but since it's not entirely relevant to the conversation I let it go with, "I'll try to explain later, okay?" She nods and I continue.

"As it got closer to my graduation, I decided I wanted the freedom to experience college like most of my peers so I asked her if we could end our relationship. She agreed but asked me to help her find someone to take my place.

"I began exploring areas of town and the internet that I probably shouldn't have been allowed access to, given my age, but I was looking for someone more age appropriate so she could have the type of relationship she deserved.

"Thomas was the fifth guy I introduced her to and the only one who went to his knees for her with just a look. I knew right then that he'd be able to make her extremely happy. Maybe even give her children, if she wanted them.

"They married four months later and their first daughter was born five months after that."

"They had sex that soon?"

I chuckle at the memory. "Yeah. The attraction was instantaneous. And before you ask: no, I wasn't present whenever they'd have sex. I never did anything sexual for her so I couldn't exactly teach him those things." I feel a little guilty for lying about this because I did watch them fuck several times. But only because Mistress wanted to know if I could get aroused by it. I never did which led her to believe I was asexual.

Her indrawn breath is shaky. "Okay. You do know this is hard for me to hear, right?"

I nod. "It's difficult for me to tell you. But I feel like you need to know the basics. So don't worry that I'll give details, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." She rubs a hand across my shoulders.

"I had only been at school a few weeks, just under two months, actually, when Mick approached me." I swallow the lump of bile that's trying to climb my throat at the memories. "I was sitting at a table in the student union when he sat down across from me. Didn't ask, just sat himself down.

"When I looked up in annoyance, I was trying to finish some homework for my next class, he smiled an apologetic sort of smile and said that all the other tables were full. A look around proved he was telling the truth. And yet, I still frowned and was about to say he could have said that before he just sat his ass down when his smile turned into one that he probably practices in the mirror. 

"He was just oozing with charm at this point. And that's when I felt it: I was sexually attracted to this man. It was exhilarating to say the least. To finally find myself aroused by the physical appearance of another person."

"So this is when you realized you're gay."

I shake my head. "No, Mom. I'm not sure there is a term for my sexual orientation. I've only been sexually aroused by two people: Mick and Andy. And both were able to arouse me within minutes of meeting. I do, however, consider myself gay since only two _men_ have been able to arouse me. So if you _have_ to put a label in it, then, yes, I'm gay."

"Okay. You want something to drink?" she asks, standing and walking over to the fridge.

"Sure. Some iced tea would be great."

She brings back two glasses and we drink in silence for a long moment. "You can continue, now."

"He went much faster than Ms. Blackstone. Even though we didn't have any classes together, he was an upperclassman, he seemed to be everywhere I was. By the end of that first week, he had kissed me for the first time. He had his own dorm room, I found out later that it was because no one could stand to room with him. So every time he wanted to be alone, we went to his place.

"The night he kissed me, we had been watching something on TV. He had done the old 'stretch and drop' move to get his arm around me. I thought it was cute and teased him about it. He laughed but it sounded strained, like he really didn't find it funny. Then he leaned over, cupped the back of my head and kissed me. It was nice. And so very different from Ms. Blackstone. 

"Anyway, I was getting into the kiss and so reached up with my left hand and laid it against his cheek. That was the first time he hit me." 

"After that, he would slap at me for the smallest things: not opening a door quickly enough, speaking without permission, not getting an A on a paper.

"The day he found out I was a virgin…" I have to stop to clear my throat. "You would have thought it was his birthday and Christmas all rolled into one. Although he did take great joy in telling me that I wasn't good enough for him to fuck.

"You know about the abuse I suffered after that. You also know how I got away." I swallow thickly. "I still don't know why he never came for me. I didn't change my name and I was still _here_. He could have found me and killed me, if he wanted."

I turn to look at her. "I'm positive that he was trying to kill during those last few months. Which is why I'm confused as to why he let me leave."

Mom shrugs. "I don't know and don't care. I'm just glad he did." She runs the tips of her fingers along my right eyebrow. "I am so very glad that he didn't succeed in killing you, if that truly was his intention."

"I know I should have left when he first slapped me but I thought it was just a one time thing. By the time it got bad, I felt...stuck. I believed him when he said I wasn't good enough. That no one would ever love me. That he was being magnanimous in _allowing_ me to serve him."

"Oh, baby." She wraps one arm around my shoulders and tugs until I rest my head on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that alone. You could have come to your father and me about this, you know."

I nod. "I know. _Now_. Back then-" I shrug. "-I felt...ashamed...that I couldn't protect myself. That I let him tear me down like that." 

Lifting my head, I rub my cheeks with the heel of one hand. "I never truly had self esteem issues but I let him make me feel small and insignificant. _I_ let him treat me that way. And I didn't fight back." A sob tries to crawl up my throat but I swallow it down. "I didn't defend myself so what he said must be true, right?"

"Oh, no, Ryan. He was in the wrong. You are smart and kind and loving and beautiful and special and important and-"

"Okay, Mom," I cut her off with a laugh. "I get it. You think I'm great."

She runs her fingers through my hair. "I don't think it, honey. I know it! And I'm not just saying this because I'm your mother. It's true." She gives a sharp nod.

"If you say so."

"Oh, Ryan. It breaks my heart to see you like this."

"I know, Mom."

With a deep sigh, I start to tell her about Andy.

"My first day at Three Rivers was not a very good day.

"First, when I arrived I discovered that the woman I was supposed to report to had quit, leaving me in charge. And since I only have a journalism degree, I had no clue what to expect.

"The first person I saw when I arrived was Andy. When I asked for Dr. Jordan, he made some flippant remark and called me SpongeBob under his breath.

"While Dr. Jordan was explaining my new role, the procurement team got a call. They took me along because the coordinator sometimes goes along. And since it was my first day, Dr. Jordan thought it would be good for me to see what a procurement entails.

"When we got there, we found out the donor was a suspect in a series of murders so we had to wait for the police to do their investigation. Dr. Foster was worried we'd lose the organ, there's only a small window of time to harvest them and get them to the patient before they die. She told me to start the slush for the lungs we were going to take with us."

I pause to take a shuddering breath at the memory of Miranda yelling at me. "When I told her I had no idea what that was, she just about tore me a new one. I was reminded of Ms. Blackstone and very nearly dropped to my knees to kiss her feet.

"Sometime later she apologized. We ended up being friends. In fact, I consider her one of my best friends.

"The rest of my day wasn't much better and by the time it was over, I was barely holding it together. It was a relief to finally get to the locker room. More so when I found it empty. I sat down on a bench in the back and let myself cry like I hadn't in years.

"And that's where Andy found me. He took my wrist in his hand and then wrote his room number on my palm. After telling me I had five minutes to arrive at his door, he turned and walked away.

"He pounced when I arrived, not realizing I was still a virgin. Once he did, he was furious with himself for hurting me. In fact it was several days later before he even touched me again."

"Ryan," Mom's voice is full of censor. "You promised no details."

"I'm trying, Mom, but sex was a huge part of our relationship."

With a deep sigh, she stands from the table and takes the risen dough from the proofing drawer to knead it some more.

"Shall I continue?"

She sighs again. "I suppose you had better. I need to know for when he shows up here."

"I found out shortly after our first night together that he was married. She didn't enjoy submitting to him the way I did so they had a deal that as long as his submissives were men, she didn't care. At first I didn't want anything to do with him because of his marriage but he assured me she didn't mind. And I told myself that since they were separated, he was living in the hospital's hotel, I wasn't breaking up a family.

"But it quickly became obvious that he wanted to work on their marriage; that the reason he was living in the hotel was because she had thrown him out and he was hopeful she would ask him to come back.

"I know for a fact that he was still sleeping with her. I know this because he did it once while I was in the other room. I chose to look at it as him denying his feelings for me. And that worked until the divorce was finalized five years ago."

I have to stop to swallow tears and take a sip of my drink. "He bought a condo then. Said it was to celebrate not having to pay more than half her bills any longer. He did still have to pay her alimony but she got remarried a year later so he doesn't have to pay that anymore, either. He took me away for a couple of days to celebrate."

"And yet, it's still beyond obvious that he's still in love with her and wants her back." Mom's voice is thick with anger. I look over at where Mom is beating the shit out of the ball of dough and vow to never piss her off. 

"About six months ago I found myself almost calling him Andy while we were at home. The main rule was that I was to call him Master in private and Dr. Yablonski or Andy in public, depending on where we were and who we were with."

I return my gaze to where my fingers are playing with the condensation on my glass. "It took me a couple of months to realize that my near slip, along with the fact that I was calling him Andy in my head, meant that I no longer see him as my master. I tried to talk to him about it but he has a rule about me not being allowed to talk without permission. And I've learned over the years that if he doesn't want to talk about something, he just orders me to stop talking. If I don't want to be punished, I have to obey."

"And that's what he did about this thing that he didn't do that bothers you so much?"

"Yeah. For the first few weeks, I mentioned it every day, sometimes more than once. I let it taper off to once or twice a month. By the time a year had rolled around, I was only saying it once a month. Last time I said it, he told me that if I mentioned it again, I would not like my punishment. And then he told me I couldn't speak anymore and… well… you don't want details, but let me say that I could barely sit the next day."

The breath she takes is extremely shaky. "He was rough with you?"

"Sometimes. If he was upset or angry. He tried to not hurt me, Mom. He wasn't that kind of man." She doesn't need to know about the one time he slapped me during an argument. "I know he loves me. But I've come to the realization that he's not in love with me. That he's still in love with Rena and I deserve to be someone's first priority."

"Damn straight you do." The vehemence in her voice is shocking in its intensity. 

"Please, Mom, tell me how you really feel," I say with a laugh.

She turns to look at me, a small smile on her face. "When you first started talking about him, I loved him for how he boosted your confidence. But now-" She shrugs, throwing the dough around some more.

"Throwing the dough around like that isn't going to ruin it, is it?"

With a sigh she lifts one had, watching the dough stretch between the ball on the counter and her fingers. "No. But it will if I don't stop now." She takes out a rolling pin and begins flattening it. 

Silence fills the room as she shapes the dough into whatever it is she's making and I sip my tea, thinking about Andy and why he might not have followed me right away.

"So," she breaks the silence. "What will you do when he shows up?"

"At this point, I'm thinking what will I do _if_ he shows up." I shrug, draining my glass. "Depends on his response to my reason for leaving. But at the moment, I'm thinking I'm done. That our relationship is over."

"Oh, Ryan. Are you sure? I mean, this was your longest and most serious relationship."

"Yeah, Mom, I am. He's just like every other surgeon: only thinking of himself and what makes him happy."

"But doesn't making you happy make him happy? Isn't that how those types of relationships work?"

"Um, what?" Since when does my mother know anything about that and why did she act like she didn't when I first started talking?

"Oh, well, when that _Fifty Shades_ book came out, I decided to do a little research before reading it. Turns out the author got most of it wrong. So I decided to not read it."

I nod and chuckle a little. "Yeah, Mom, she got a lot of it wrong. And not all BDSM relationships are like that. I thought mine and Andy's was, but-" I shrug. 

"Well, dinner will be ready soon. And your father will be home from work about the same time. Why don't you go get cleaned up? I'll call you when it's time."

"Okay." I know she's telling me to get some rest before having to spend any real time with Dad; something that hasn't happened since I moved to Pittsburgh. I brush a kiss to her cheek before heading for the stairs to the basement.

Over the next several days, I fully expect every knock on the door or ring of the phone to be Andy. I mean, I've been gone for nearly a week now and Pam did say that he requested an unexpected and sudden leave of absence. Only reason I can think of for him to do that is that he's headed here to talk me into going back.

But with each passing day, I find my resolve slipping. I miss him more and more each second that ticks by. It's gotten so that I'm afraid that I'll just throw myself into his arms when he appears and that just will not do. He needs to know how much he hurt me with his refusal to do this one simple thing and until he does that I cannot allow myself to even think of returning to Pittsburgh with him.

It's early afternoon nearly two weeks after I left when Mom catches me cleaning her already clean kitchen.

"Ryan." Her tone is resigned. "Why don't you take my car and go do something? Get out of the house for a while?"

I stop scrubbing the counter but don't turn to face her. "It's been so long since I was last here that I have no idea of where I'd go or what I'd do."

She sighs and I hear her take a breath in preparation of speaking but whatever she was going to say is cut off by the doorbell.

I turn to frown at her and she just frowns back. With an eye roll, I throw the rag down on the counter and walk from the kitchen. "I'll get it," I say when she doesn't even move.

Despite fully expecting it to be Andy, I'm still surprised that it is indeed him standing on the other side of the door. "What are you doing here?" I don't even attempt to keep my anger from my voice.

"I could ask you the same thing," he replies. His tone says he fully expects me to fall to my knees and beg his forgiveness. If he truly is expecting that, then he has a long wait ahead of him.

"Well, since this is my parents' house…" I leave the end unsaid with a shrug.

His frown deepens. "Can I come in?" He motions with one hand at the interior of the house.

"Nope." I settle my weight on one foot.

His lips curls in a silent snarl. "Then will you come out here?" He waves at the porch. "We need to talk."

"Fine." I shrug again and step through the door just far enough to pull it closed behind me. "But I said everything I needed to in my good-bye letter."

"You mean this fucking thing?" He pulls the envelope from his inside jacket pocket and waves it in my face. "It's full of fucking bullshit! And doesn't tell me a goddamned thing!"

I nod, keeping calm in the face of his growing anger. "And now I know that you don't ever truly pay attention to me or anything I ever say." Reaching back, I wrap my hand around the doorknob, intent on going back inside. "Good to know just how important I was to you. Have a good life, Andy."

Just as I twist the knob, he reaches out with one hand, stopping just shy of actually touching me. When I look up, I find the anger gone; replaced with a profound sadness that breaks my heart. "Please, Ryan. Just tell me what I did wrong." His eyes fill with tears and I feel my resolve crumble like so much sand in the face of the incoming tide.

"This, you jackass!" I grab his left wrist, and raise his hand so that he can see his fingers. "This is what you did wrong! It's been five fucking years, Andrew! She's remarried and has kids with him. You are no longer married to her."

He looks confused. "You mean my wedding ring?"

"No, Andy. _Rena's_ wedding ring. I asked you to remove it after the divorce was finalized but you just brushed my request aside. I kept asking and kept asking until you finally-" He speaks over me. "Ordered you to never mention it again or suffer your worst ever punishment."

"Yeah." I drop his arm. "And if you remove it now, I will fucking punch you in the face," I say when he begins twisting the ring on his finger.

He sighs and drops his arms to his sides. "What do you want from me, then?"

Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean back against the door and drop my gaze to the floor. "At this moment in time? Not a fucking thing." I raise my eyes in time to see hurt flash across his features.

"In the future?"

I shake my head and say the words I never thought I'd ever say to him, "Probably not."

His breath catches in his throat. "Why, Ryan? I thought you loved me."

"And I thought you loved me, too. Until I realized that you're still waiting for her to come back to you."

He shakes his head. "That's not true."

My laugh sounds hollow even to my own ears. "Oh, but it is, Andy." Standing up straight, I get in his face. "Ya see, not only have you continued to wear the ring she put on your finger, but I've been here for over two weeks and you just now showed up at the door." I can see him trying to find a way out of this mess. "I know you've known their address and phone number for years. And yet you didn't once call and try to speak to me."

"I was-" He starts but I talk over him.

"What? Giving me space? Really?" I tap one finger against my lips. "Correct me if I'm wrong but I broke every single one of your rules when I removed your collar and left without your permission two weeks ago?" Tilting my head I wait for him to speak. When all he can do is gape at me, I smile and continue. "I know that a Dominant like you would _never_ have allowed his submissive to walk away like I did.

"Pam told me that you asked for a leave of absence the morning after I left. I expected you that night. The next morning at the very latest. But _two weeks_ , Andrew?" I shake my head and make a tsking sound. "That's not like you. So what were you doing? Did you go to Rena first? Try to get her to leave her husband and children?"

The way his lips thin tells me I'm right. "You have no idea-"

The laugh bursts from me without me even being aware it was there. "Oh, I'm sure I know exactly what happened! She not only told you to fuck off, but probably told you that if you bothered her again she'd file a harassment suit. That or she got her husband to forcefully remove you from their property."

"Ryan-"

"Nope." I shake my head again. "For the past two weeks I wasn't sure if I would take you back or not but now, with you standing here trying to convince me that you're over Rena, I've made my decision. It's over, Andy. You need to leave now." I open the door and start to step through it. "Oh, and don't worry. I only took the things I bought with my paycheck. And I did not destroy anything. The house was clean when I left and all your precious things were right where they're supposed to be and unharmed."

"I know." His voice is soft and small. "You treated everything much better than I would have."

"Well, that's because I'm not petty." I start to close the door. "Good-bye, Andy. I hope you find someone who can make you happy." And with that, I close the door on my past before turning to find my mother standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a sad smile on her face and tears dripping down her cheeks.

"Oh, honey!" She holds out her arms and I go to her, letting her enfold me into her embrace and hold me while I grieve the loss of the love of my life. "What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know." I pull back and wipe my face. "But I know that I'll be doing it all on my own. I think I'm done with men like Andy. At least for a while."

She gives me another smile, this one slightly happier, and pulls me into the kitchen. "Let's bake something sinfully delicious."

With a laugh, because only my mother would think that baking will cheer me up, I let her tie an apron around my waist and order me around while we bake the most delicious triple chocolate cake known to man.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Banner] Still Breathing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18530131) by [Knowmefirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/pseuds/Knowmefirst)




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